An Inescapable Fate
by Twilight L Xari
Summary: With nothing on TV, House decides to read the paper. What's so bad about that? Well, the horoscopes he finds are just too interesting not to be accurate. HouseWilson and a bit of ChaseCameron.


Disclaimer: I don't own House, Wilson, or any other of these delightful characters, unfortunately.

A/N: This story was inspired by something that actually happened to me and a couple friends. My horoscope talked about me dealing with ignored problems, Danny's talked about committing to a new relationship, and Dess's said she would help someone resolve their issues. This came at a point when people were trying to get me and Danny (aka Ellipsis) to admit we liked each other, and thus this story was born, in all its soap opera-like glory. Enjoy.

* * *

"So, enjoy your soap operas this morning?"

House glared at Wilson across the table. "No."

"Oh, I forgot, it was a Price is Right marathon! What did you _do_ with all that free time?"

"I read the newspaper. Gas prices are going to keep going up. Some guy got hit by a train and lived. Another guy got hit by a train and died."

Wilson put more dressing on his salad. "How sad. Was there any news that was actually _interesting_?"

"Nope." House took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed before continuing. "I did the puzzles on the Funny Pages."

"That must have taken you, oh, two hours tops?"

House nodded. "Then I read the letters to Dear What's-her-face."

"Another five, maybe ten minutes. That leaves about half an hour to kill before you started pestering me."

"I read the horoscopes."

Wilson sighed. "Don't tell me you hunted down the birthdays of everyone you know so you could see what our respective fates are today."

"Fine. I won't tell you, then." House grinned and continued eating his sandwich.

It took less than a minute for Wilson to cave. "What did the horoscopes say?"

"I thought you didn't want to know."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Just tell me already, since it's obvious you're going to hang them over _someone's_ head."

House smiled wickedly. "Apparently you've been ignoring your problems."

Wilson blinked. "You didn't know that already?"

"Ah, but this'll be the day you deal with them, Jimmy. You have to stop hiding from them and face them once and for all. It will enrich your life, apparently. But you'll have a friend to help you, so never fear."

"If that friend is you, I'm very afraid. Your solution to problems is doping yourself up on drugs."

"But I won't be your friend – that would be Cuddy. She's so helpful."

Wilson blinked again. "Cuddy? What sign is _she_? And why is she going to be my friend today?"

"Pisces. They're supposedly all emotion-y. Anyway, she's going to help a friend or coworker get through a difficult situation today. And I assume that you're the coworker with a difficult situation, so she'll help you."

"I seriously doubt it. And what about you? What's going to happen to _you_ today?"

"I am going to commit to a project, sale, or relationship. Someone is sick of me not trusting them. Now is the time to take a risk and realize that I create my own reality." He paused. "Apparently. Then again, someone close to Cameron is going to reveal feelings that upset her, so we're the lucky ones in all this."

Wilson stood up. "Well, that was a lovely story. I have patients to see." He hurried off.

House watched him go.

* * *

After he left, as he had no patients, Wilson headed for the clinic. House avoided the clinic like the plague, so this was the last place he would come looking for Wilson and his ignored problems. And yes, he was going to continue to resolutely ignore every single problem he possessed.

He'd treated a man with the flu and a thirteen-year-old who had a rather severe case of pinkeye when he saw two people walking past the window of the exam room. Judging by their gaits, it was House and someone else – most likely Cuddy, dragging him down to do clinic hours.

Great.

He hastily scrawled a prescription and gave it to the girl's mother. He ushered them out the door, then slipped out past them and almost ran towards the doors.

But alas, he would have been better off not calling attention to himself. He was almost out when –

"Wilson, where are you going?"

He stopped and swore mentally. Then he turned and saw Cuddy walking up to him. "I, um, have some paperwork I need to go do."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You're running from the clinic to go do paperwork?" She put her hands on her hips. "I'm not buying it."

Wilson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm hiding from House," he admitted. "He was telling me about horoscopes at lunch."

Cuddy stared at him, confused. "Are you afraid of horoscopes?"

"No, but… Apparently I'm going to stop ignoring problems today, and I don't want him trying to pry things out of me."

"You really shouldn't ignore problems. They'll come back to bite you."

Wilson sighed again. "Yes. But I don't like the alternative."

"Who are you, House? Is it impossible for you to talk to people?" Cuddy frowned. "Well, whatever you're hiding must be something especially terrible to have you running from House. Actually, it makes me think it's _about_ House."

"Please, drop it," Wilson said tiredly.

"Get back to the clinic," Cuddy told him in the voice she usually reserved for dealing with particularly stubborn doctors who tried to avoid work (i.e. House). "Whatever your problem with him is, I suggest you work it out before he does." She turned and headed for her office.

Wilson closed his eyes. The House-like voice in his head had actually failed to comment once on Cuddy. He didn't think that had _ever_ happened before. He sighed, then walked back to the exam room to see another patient, and hopefully avoid both House _and_ Cuddy.

* * *

"Have you seen the newspaper?" Foreman asked, looking supremely _bored_.

Chase, his feet propped on the table, shrugged. "I think House took it." Foreman sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. There was a moment of silence, then the door opened and Cameron walked in, a rather beaten-looking newspaper tucked under one arm.

"Toss it," Chase said, holding out his hands. Cameron shook her head at him and laid the newspaper on the table instead. Foreman and Chase went for it at precisely the same time, and for a moment she was afraid they'd grab the same part and rip it in half, but luckily, Chase went for the funnies and Foreman chose the A section.

Cameron leaned over Chase's shoulder and looked at what he was reading. "Are you reading Dear Abby?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Of course not! I'm looking at the horoscopes," Chase lied, immediately switching columns. "It says I'm going to be a comforting presence to someone who has recently been disappointed." He thought for a moment. "When's House's birthday?"

Foreman rolled his eyes. "It's not like horoscopes are actually accurate," he scoffed. "It's just some lady looking up at the stars and deciding that they mean something."

Cameron squinted at the paper. "I'm sure Anthony Limnberg's happy you called him a lady," she said. Foreman shook his head at her and went back to his article about a train crash.

* * *

After an hour of clinic duty, Wilson managed to escape to his office to have a quiet afternoon with his good friend paperwork. He was about a third of the way through the small stack when he heard a series of sharp raps on the door to the balcony. He didn't even have to look up from the paper he was signing to know that it was House. Sighing, he stood up, crossed the room, and opened the door. "What?" he asked, sounding a good deal less than friendly. House was the _last_ person he wanted to see in his office at that point.

"Just came for a little visit," House said, leaning on his cane. "How's it going with those pesky problems?" he asked, grinning a bit.

Wilson crossed his arms over his chest. "My problems are no better for your asking." He paused. "Or they _would_ be no better, if they actually _existed_."

"Changing your story?" House said, seeing an opening. "You're a horrible liar."

"House, we are _not_ going to talk about it."

"Maybe you should go see Cuddy. Will you talk about it with her?"

"I do not have problems!" Wilson said loudly. For extra emphasis, he slammed the door to the balcony shut and locked it. Then he sat down at his desk again, willing himself to ignore the continued tapping on the glass that was beginning to sound suspiciously like the Jeopardy theme song.

After a minute the tapping stopped, and the next time Wilson looked up, House had disappeared. He sighed and closed his eyes. House wouldn't give up that easily. No, he'd get to the bottom of this.

With that cheery thought, Wilson put his head down on his desk, not wanting to think about it any more.

* * *

"We have a case," House announced to his newspaper-reading team as he marched into the room from his office. He headed straight for the white board and started writing.

Foreman looked at the table as though he expected to see a file appear there. Then he looked at House, who was scribbling madly on the white board. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and decided to just wait.

House finally finished and moved back to let them see what he'd written.

"'Commitment issues'?" Chase read, sounding incredulous. "'Exceedingly tolerant of verbal abuse'? 'Has no social life'? 'Constantly moody'? '_Uses a hairdryer_'? What the hell are we diagnosing?"

House limped over to a chair and sat down. "Wilson's problem. He won't tell me what it is, so we're going to figure it out."

Foreman stood up. "I'm leaving," he said. "Wilson's got a right to whatever secret he wants." He marched over to the door, opened it, and headed down the hall, letting the door slam behind him.

Chase and Cameron looked at each other. House looked at them. Neither of them moved. "Alright," he said, forging on. "Any suggestions?"

"Hormone imbalance?" Cameron suggested. "That would explain the moodiness, and maybe the hairdryer."

"How does caring about your hair suggest a problem?" Chase asked, turning vaguely red. "Maybe he has low self-esteem."

"But what about the hairdryer?"

Chase glared at her. "Using a hairdryer does _not_ indicate a problem."

"What if he's gay?" Cameron asked. "That accounts for the hairdryer – "

"How does using a hairdryer make you _gay_?"

" – and it explains the commitment issues – he doesn't commit to relationships because he doesn't really like women."

"But why is being gay a problem?" Chase asked. "I though we were trying to diagnose his problem, not find embarrassing secrets."

There was a moment of silence as Cameron and House both stared at Chase. He looked from one to the other. "What?"

"Nothing," Cameron said sweetly, grinning. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"I'm not gay!" Chase snapped. "I'm just saying, it's not a problem."

"It would be a problem if you were in the closet about it," Cameron argued. "Secrets put a lot of stress on people, especially when they have to work to hide them."

"But how does that explain him having no social life?"

"Didn't you read that letter in the paper you stole from me?" House asked him. Chase looked at him blankly. "You know, that lady who never left her house and wrote to that newspaper shrink about it."

"Oh, I remember that! But she was depressed, not gay. There's a difference."

"Still," Cameron said, smirking. "Since when do you read Dear Abby?"

"I don't!" Chase shot back. "And I don't think being gay is Wilson's problem. It doesn't explain him tolerating abuse."

"Maybe he's in love," Cameron suggested, not thinking. Chase looked at her, then they both looked at House, who looked right back at them. Then he pushed himself up. "I think it's time to go have a chat with Jimmy," he announced, limping towards the door to his office.

"Do you think someone should warn him?" Cameron asked after the door closed, sounding slightly concerned.

Chase watched as House went out the door to the balcony. "Nah," he decided. "If he's smart he's not in there."

* * *

Wilson finished his last form and leaned back in his chair. All his paperwork done. The one good thing about House and his –

Oh crap.

Wilson was out of his seat and out the door in record time, and by the time House hammered on the door with his cane, there was nothing left of Wilson in the office but a crazily spinning chair.

* * *

"I think that's a new record," Chase commented as Wilson sprinted past the conference room so fast he was a blur. "I don't think he even goes that fast when a patient crashes."

* * *

Cuddy was headed for House's office with a file in hand. She had just turned a corner when someone nearly collided with her. She was barely able to step back in time to keep from being plowed over. Then, as quickly as he had come, Wilson was gone around the next corner.

Curious, and also slightly annoyed, Cuddy continued down the hall. She was certain that – yes, she was right. Within seconds a swiftly limping House rounded the corner in front of her. "Which way did he go?" he demanded.

She glared at him. "Harassment's against the rules," she reminded him, handing him the file. "You've got a patient."

"But Mommy," he whined, "I just want to _talk_ to him…"

"Considering how many comments you make about my chest, the idea of you calling me 'Mommy' is sickening," Cuddy told him. "Now go play with your team. Go on. Shoo."

House muttered something about, "Mommy never lets me have any fun," then turned and limped his way back down the hall. Cuddy shook her head, then went to find Wilson.

Shaking her head, Cuddy turned around and went down the hall in the direction Wilson had gone.

She found him standing at the door to the staircase, one hand on the handle. He was poised to run, but relaxed a bit when he realized that it was Cuddy coming around the corner, not House.

"Why are you running down the halls like a six-year-old?" she demanded, walking up to him and crossing her arms. "This is a hospital, not a playground."

Wilson looked at his feet and mumbled something. Cuddy glared at him.

"He knows."

"He knows what?"

Wilson mumbled another sentence to his feet, which didn't appear to be interested in the least.

"You what?" Cuddy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her disapproval as she strained to hear.

"I'm in love," he said quietly, still looking at his feet.

Cuddy was puzzled. "What's so bad about that?"

Wilson looked at her and gave her a level stare. "With House."

"Ah." Cuddy rested her hands on her hips. "You do realize that running from him will just make everything worse."

"Yes," Wilson admitted. "But what do you recommend I do? Go into his office and just declare undying love? He'll never let me live it down!"

"You're never going to be able to live it down anyway," Cuddy pointed out. "It's not going to be any worse if you just go tell him."

He glared at her. "Have you ever tried to tell _your_ best friend that you're in love with him? I didn't think so," he said when she didn't answer.

She threw up her hands. "Fine! Don't tell him! But if you end up killing someone while you're running through the halls it's your head." Then she turned around and walked off, leaving a rather stunned Wilson standing in front of the staircase.

* * *

Cameron was looking at the file when Chase tapped her on the arm. "Wilson's back," he muttered, careful not to let House, who was staring at the white board, hear him. "How long before House notices?"

"Why do we care?" Foreman asked, walking up behind them. "It's not our business."

"What's none of your business? I want to hear," House said as he limped up behind them. "I love gossip."

"Nothing," Chase said quickly. "Nothing at all."

"Good. Then can we get to work on the diagnosis before our patient croaks."

* * *

Wilson couldn't believe it. It was almost time to leave, and House hadn't appeared at all. Either he'd forgotten, he didn't actually care, or, more likely, he enjoyed watching Wilson be in a state of panic every time someone walked past his door.

Sighing, Wilson stood up and stretched. He needed to leave if he wanted to get home and actually get sleep, but then again, after today, he didn't think he _could_ sleep. Nonetheless, he picked up his briefcase and went out into the hall.

There was only one light on in the vicinity – House's office, of course. He was a little surprised that House hadn't gone home yet, but then, who could fathom how House's twisted mind worked? He started walking down the hall, prepared to be verbally abused the second he passed House's office, but to his surprise, House wasn't _in_ his office. The only person in there was Cameron, who had her back to the door, and thus hadn't seen him.

Good.

He'd almost reached the elevator when he stopped. Cuddy had been right, he knew, to say that House would never let go of his secret. He'd lord it over him until the end of time. There were really only two variations on the scenario.

Variation One: Leaving right now without a word. This would guarantee him safety from House for at least as long as it took him to be found tomorrow, which wouldn't be hard, as by the time tomorrow rolled around, a sleepless Wilson would be almost walking into walls and incapable of escape. Not a pleasant scenario.

Variation Two: Walking into the office, waiting for Cameron to leave, then coming clean. This could have one of three effects: one, House could be driven off for good, which wouldn't be fun; two, House could take up a new career insulting him, which was entirely feasible in his opinion; or three, House could be sensitive enough to his feelings to never mention it again for the rest of his life – what a laughable idea.

After a few minutes of careful deliberation, Wilson turned and headed back to House's office. For better or for worse, he was going in there, and he was going to come clean. Maybe – _maybe_ – he'd get some sleep tonight if he did that.

Cameron jumped when he walked into the office. "Dr. Wilson," she said when she saw him. "What are you still doing here?"

Wilson sighed and sank into a chair. "I just need to talk to House before I go, that's all."

She studied him for a moment. "About?" she prompted.

He sighed again. "How do you tell someone that you love them?"

There was an almost imperceptible shift in Cameron's demeanor. "I suppose it depends on who you're telling. I would just come out and say it. They'll think what they think."

"Thanks," Wilson said tiredly.

Before he could say anything more, the door opened again. "You've finally come out of hiding?" House asked, prodding Wilson's shoe with the end of his cane. "Good. I've been wanting to talk to you." He looked at Cameron. "What are you still doing here?"

She looked over at Wilson, a hint of sadness in her eyes, then stood up. "I was just going," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow." Then she was gone.

House leaned on the edge of his desk. "You've been avoiding me all day, Jimmy," he said, sounding rather nonchalant. "Something on your mind?"

Trust House to make any serious subject into a joke.

"House, I – I just wanted to say that – you know, that problem I've been ignoring – " House watched him expectantly, and Wilson forced himself to think of everything Cuddy had told him and what Cameron had just advised him to do. "I – I love you." Then he held his breath and waited for the bomb to drop.

There was a moment of silence. "That was _it_?" House asked.

"What do you mean, 'That was it'?"

"You love me? That's your problem? That's your big secret?"

Wilson thought he'd known what to expect of this conversation. Quite clearly he hadn't. Now he was in uncharted waters without a plan.

"How long have you been keeping this deep, dark secret anyway?" House sounded almost…annoyed?

"Years! Why do you care? You're just going to ridicule me anyway, what does it matter?"

"Jimmy, you think so little of me!" House stood up. "Come on. Let's go." He grabbed his backpack from beside the door as he walked out. Wilson didn't move for a minute, then got up mechanically and walked out after House, not knowing quite what to say. He hadn't expected this. This type of behavior wasn't in _The Complete Guide to Gregory House_. The manual he'd constructed in his mind had no chapter on this.

They got all the way to the parking lot without saying a word. In fact, they didn't talk at all until House followed Wilson right past the motorcycle in the handicap space.

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked.

"Maybe I decided to walk home," he said. "Or maybe I decided to hitch a ride because I'm too lazy to drive."

Wilson rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, just climbed into the car. He put the key in the ignition and listened to House climbing in the passenger side, then turned to look at him. "Is it not awkward for you at all that I just told you I'm in love with you?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

House shrugged. "You saved me the trouble of saying it."

"I – _what_?" Wilson said, unbelieving. "You were going to say – "

"Well, no," House admitted. "I was actually going to ask you out, but it's hard to do that when the person you want to ask is running in terror."

Wilson was becoming more confused by the minute. "So when you were chasing me down the hall, you were going to ask me on a _date_?"

"Yeah. If I knew you were going to make a love confession, though, I would've waited. It would've been much more dramatic."

"So you didn't know? All day I thought you were going to bash me into the ground, and you didn't _know_?"

House shrugged again. "Personally, I was more afraid you'd fallen in love with that nurse you were dating a week ago. That just would've been nasty."

Wilson sighed and started the car. "And this caused you to chase me down why, exactly?" he asked as he drove out of the parking lot.

"Well, at worst I would've figured out your secret, and at best I would've beaten the next buxom nurse to you. It was a win-win."

"So let me get this straight," Wilson said, stopping at a red light. "You're _gay_? And I didn't _know_?"

"I prefer to refer to it as 'gender indiscriminant'. It sounds cooler."

Wilson just shook his head and stepped on the gas again. They didn't speak again until they got to House's apartment. House opened the door, levered himself out of the car, then leaned down and looked in at Wilson. "Well, are you coming?"

"Coming where?"

House rolled his eyes. "Inside, where the television and movies are. Aren't movies one of those stereotypical first date things?"

"I guess." Wilson turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. They were almost at the door when he asked, "You seriously want to date me?"

House turned around and put his hands on Wilson's shoulders. "Yes." Then he leaned forward, gave Wilson a quick kiss on the lips, _blushed_, then went inside. A moment later, a wide-eyed Wilson followed him.

* * *

"Allison?"

Putting down her drink, she turned around and looked up at Chase, standing behind her. "Hi."

"Did you have some reason for calling me?"

She shrugged. "No. I just…wanted to talk."

He slid onto the chair across from her. "Alright." He leaned his elbows on the table. "I'm here to listen."


End file.
